A gorilla's existential crisis

Dust motes glide in the split streams of light as people raise their arms over their heads in a colourful array of supposed dance moves. The music blasts and you can feel the bass vibrating through your bones.

I don’t know if their smiles are real, I project onto them the fakeness of my own smile.

I find myself walking through the crowds of people aimlessly chasing for those moments with Jasmine. Women are brushing against me and I’m trying to act like it’s the best night of my life, looking around me at all these faces flashing different colours in the lights, and I’m thinking, ‘are you listening to the lyrics?’

“Please tell me why, oh tell me why do we build castles in the sky…”

“Do you ever question your life?” Why yes, yes I do I question it all the time.

I’m drowning and you’re all living in a submarine separate from me. I can’t breathe.

“I think it’s time to talk with you…..Where is the love?”

Can’t you hear the desperation in their voice? I want to shake these people. They call it trance music, and it seems appropriate because they’re set in a trance dancing, moving their body like hypnotised robots.

“Give me a reason, must be a reason to hold on to what we’ve got,”

I think I’ve seen Jasmine amongst a crowd of colourful dancing people.

What is the reason? Why are we holding on?

I’m spiralling. Going deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, I’m dying and the woman I thought was Jasmine was a bearded man with long hair.

The music is too bright to lights to loud. Existential voices sing over beats that propose promise of a good time. My mind can’t get over the contradiction.

I rush out of the club and throw up in a side street. I can still hear the thump of every beat inside the building, feel it shaking my bones.

“Don’t be afraid, there’s no need to worry…”

I go to a nearby carpark and climb till I reach the top floor. The music is blasting from across the road, the neon lights shining on the night.

I stand on the edge. I hear the beginnings of a song called ‘Children’ from across the road. I know they’re dancing in there like it doesn’t sound sad. It must be me and my perception. No. The world is lost and I’m drowning in an abyss. I stand on the edge. The beat the music has gotten heavier. Like my heart.

That lingering tone behind the beat, behind the melody it reeks of sadness. Or am I just too sad to hear the happiness?

I’m dizzy, I’m tired. I lean forward and open my arms to the wind.

Close my eyes.

This is it.

Blue lights. Heavy heart.

Are those blue lights part of the club?

Sirens reach out like a hand over the music.

My hairs a mess and my palms are wet with sweat.

I feel like I’ve had an electrocution to the head.

“You don’t want to do this, son.” A male voice says behind me.

The music coming from the club speaks for me. But he doesn’t hear it’s sadness, he hears it as people having a good night.

3 months out of hospital:

I submerge my face under the water and I look up at the ceiling. I hold my breath. I hear her footsteps drawing near; I lift my head out with a gasp.
Jasmine peers around the door, “The film will be starting in 10 minutes!” She tells me before closing the door behind her and sauntering off back to the lounge.

I’m trying to learn to be a dragonfish, learning how to be my own source of light.

Like this:

One thought on “Chapter 12: Dragonfish”

inkbioticAugust 29, 2019 / 7:40 pm

Very beautiful, caught that disconnected feeling when clubbing, when the mind won’t switch off and nothing feels right. Learning to be your own source of light sounds like a good plan, emotional self sufficiency.